Wake Up
by WarriorHale
Summary: Set after 3A. Derek is severely injured after a fight and Stiles is frantic because he might kinda, sorta have some feelings for him. Maybe. Stiles/Derek.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **_I don't own Teen Wolf or any of the character's in this fic.  
_**Author's note: **_Set at some point after 3A. _ _An anon on tumblr gave me a really great detailed prompt and this is what it turned into. I hope you all like it!_

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When Stiles and Scott arrived at the Deaton's practice Derek was already lying on the metal examination table as Isaac leaned over him, looking terrified. The sight of Derek lying there made Stiles go cold all over, as though someone had shot ice straight into his heart valves.

"I couldn't stop him from getting hurt," Isaac was babbling, panic making him oblivious to the nasty looking gash on the side of his face that was trickling blood down his neck, onto his ripped shirt. "The alpha was too strong and now that Derek's not an alpha he isn't healing."

Stiles rushed to Derek's side and a pained sound escaped his mouth when he realised the full extent of Derek's injuries; his torso was covered in deep gashes from where the alpha's claws had sliced through his abdomen.

"He's bleeding so much," Stiles said, his voice raw with fear and emotions that he wasn't quite ready to identify yet. "Where the hell's Deaton?" he asked frantically, turning his eyes to Isaac.

"He's on his way. He was on his lunch break, I had to break down the door to get in here. I'm sorry, I tried to help him but I couldn't…"

Stiles tuned out the rest of Isaac's guilt and Scott's reassurances that it wasn't Isaac's fault and turned his gaze back to Derek. He gripped the werewolf's bicep tight, needing the contact to keep him grounded, to stop him from losing his mind with worry.

"You're gonna be alright, Derek," he spoke quietly, trying unsuccessfully to keep his wavering voice steady and calm. Stiles wasn't sure who he was trying to reassure most of all, Derek or himself. He didn't even know if Derek could hear him.

He watched as Derek's marred chest rose and fell shallowly and when he spoke again his voice sounded strangled and pained even to his own ears, "You better be okay."

He placed his fingers against Derek's neck and bit his lip when his eyes filled with panicked tears when he felt just how faint Derek's pulse was.

"Scott, come on, do some of your alpha werewolf voodoo or something. Help him!" Stiles sounded wild with panic and he knew it.

"I don't think-" Scott began but cut himself off when he took in the pure fear in Stiles' wide eyes. If trying to take some of Derek's pain made that look leave Stiles' face, Scott would do it, even though he was certain it wouldn't help. He understood how important Derek had become to Stiles, even if his best friend didn't realise it himself.

"Okay," Scott agreed. He gently pushed Stiles out of the way and placed his palm over Derek's bloodied chest and concentrated with all that he was worth on making Derek heal. It wasn't working, he could feel it, but he kept trying until his head ached with the strain of it.

"Is it working?" Stiles asked, and Scott's heart felt heavy with the hope in his voice.

He shook his head wordlessly in reply and he could hear the way Stiles' heart rate immediately sped up and Scott worried that he might take a panic attack.

"Come on, try and calm down," Scott murmured. "It's not gonna help things if you end up in a breathless heap on the floor."

Just then Deaton burst into the surgery.

"Let me take a look at him," he commanded firmly.

Stiles watched from the side of the room as Deaton silently cleaned Derek's wounds and injected a silvery liquid into Derek's bicep. It felt like hours had passed when he finally stepped back.

"Is he going to be okay?" Stiles asked immediately.

Deaton fixed Stiles with a sympathetic stare, "I'm sorry to say that I don't know. I've cleaned his wounds and given him an injection that would normally cause injuries inflicted by alphas to heal at a quicker rate than normal but Mr Hale's wounds are so severe that I can't be sure that it will help. All we can do now is wait and see."

"Surely there's something else that we can _do_. We can't just stand around and wait to see if he _dies_ or not," Stiles protested, his face pale with distress.

"I'm afraid there is nothing else that can be done now. What happens next is up to fate," he turned his attention to Isaac. "But I do have to sort out that nasty cut of yours, Isaac. Come next door and I'll have a look at that."

Isaac nodded and his eyes flicked to Scott in a silent plea for him to go with him for support. It was clear that Isaac's nerves were absolutely shot.

"I'll come," Scott said and placed a gentle hand on Stiles' shoulder. "Stiles can stay with Derek."

"Yeah," Stiles agreed, his voice rough with unvoiced emotion. "I'll stay with him."

When he was finally alone with him, Stiles pulled a chair over to Derek's bedside and sat as close to him as he could get without actually climbing onto the bed with the older man. He watched the unsteady rise and fall of Derek's chest and wished with all of his might for him to pull through.

His eyes fell upon Derek's open hand and Stiles yearned to hold it, to clasp their fingers together so tightly that maybe Derek would be able to feel all the tangled, messy feelings that Stiles was feeling for him flow into him through Stiles' palm. He knew it was stupid, that it wasn't possible, but he wanted it. _God_, he wanted it. But he didn't, he held back because who was he to hold Derek Hale's hand? He was pretty sure that Derek would claw his face off if Stiles ever tried to hold his hand while he was awake. Instead he just placed his hand next to Derek's, so that their hands were almost touching, but not quite.

"You have to wake up," Stiles began, "I mean I know we're not really friends but I don't hate you. I don't think you actually hate me either, maybe you wouldn't admit it but that's what I think. We've actually been almost getting along recently. I don't want that to stop, you know?"

He was rambling, he knew that, but he didn't think that Derek could hear him so what did it matter?

"When you were at my house using my computer for research last week I kind of wanted to kiss you before you left. It's crazy, I know that, but I just did. You looked at me weird that night too, I dunno… you looked like you might not have killed me if I'd tried. I didn't try though, I chickened out."

Stiles took a deep shuddering breath and tried to fight back the tears that were making his eyes sting and his throat feel constricted.

"I chickened out and now you might be dying," he continued his voice sounding choked. "Derek, I swear if you wake up I'll try not to get on your nerves anymore. You just have to wake up because I think-" a small sob escaped Stiles, interrupting his sentence. "I think I might actually love you a bit."

Trembling with a mixture of nerves and relief from his confession Stiles stood and leaned over Derek's still body. Sucking in a deep breath, he leaned forward and pressed a chaste but tender kiss to Derek's lips before sitting back down and pressing his forehead to Derek's bicep as he began to really cry for the first time.

Stiles jolted back into an upright position when he felt a cold hand cover his own. When he looked to Derek his frantic gaze was met with Derek's drowsy one.

"Derek?" Stiles asked hesitantly, afraid to get his hopes up.

Using all the strength that he could muster, Derek weakly squeezed Stiles hand in both a reply and in reassurance. He was healing.

Later, when Stiles was in his bed at home he grinned and wondered if the injection had made Derek wake up or if maybe his kiss had some kind of sleeping beauty effect on Derek. Of course, he'd never ask. He did, after all, want to keep all of his limbs and equating Derek Hale with a Disney princess was definitely not the way to go about that.

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**Author's note: **_I'm thinking of writing a sequel to this with Derek confronting Stiles about what he said when he thought Derek couldn't hear. If anyone's interested let me know!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **_I don't own Teen Wolf or any of the characters.  
_**Author's note:** _Quite a few of you requested a sequel so I hope this lived up to your expectations! _

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Just over a week had passed since Derek's attack. Seven days, eleven hours and around thirty two excruciating minutes had passed since Stiles had confessed his feelings to Derek's lifeless body in a panic-induced fit of honesty. Not that he was counting or anything. After the initial relief of Derek beginning to wake up and heal had worn off Stiles had been left with the crushing weight of the knowledge of what he had said and done. He had _kissed _Derek Hale and told him that he _loved _him for Christ's sake.

Over the course of the week Stiles had tried to convince himself that he had just been scared. That yeah, as much as he hated to admit it, he had sorta grown to love Derek. But in a bro way like he loved Scott, not like how he had felt about Lydia. Definitely not. He told himself firmly and _almost_ convincingly that he had kissed Derek in a platonic way, that the boundaries between what is friend behaviour and what isn't is blurred when your friend is in mortal peril. Even referring to Derek as his friend in only his mind didn't sound right to him.

But that kiss. That _fucking kiss_. He couldn't stop his train of thought from running right off the tracks and into the direction of that dumb kiss no matter how hard he tried to distract himself. It wasn't like it was a great kiss, Derek hadn't even responded. Hell, he hadn't even been awake. But Stiles was finding it painfully difficult to forget the way it had felt like his lungs were filling with air after months of deprivation when his lips touched Derek's. He would never admit that to anyone; just thinking about it made him squirm with embarrassment at how _mushy_ it sounded, but that was how it had felt and by the end of the week he had stopped trying to convince himself otherwise.

Somewhere between the middle and the end of the week Stiles had admitted to himself that somehow he had managed to let himself fall in love with Derek Hale. Even though he had accepted it, it still sounded a little ridiculous to him. He couldn't place where the feelings had begun but when he lay in bed one night and combed back through his memories he realised that the feelings weren't a new development. He remembered little snapshots of things like Derek laughing at some snarky comment Stiles had made under his breath about Peter and the way his heart had felt like it was about to fall right out of his ass. Of course, at the time he'd brushed that feeling off as shock at seeing Derek really laugh for the first time ever. And he'd always thought Scott was the oblivious one out of the two of them.

Stiles hadn't been to see Derek since he had left him at Deaton's that first night. Scott had kept him updated on how he was doing, all the while trying to convince him to go visit.

"You were really worried about him that day. It would be good for you to go see him." Scott had reasoned but Stiles had just made up some bullshit excuse about having essays to catch up on.

He felt shitty for not visiting Derek because they _had_ been getting along a lot better recently. Sometimes they were even friendly towards each other. In fact, on more than one occasion, when everyone else was busy, Stiles had found himself hanging out at Derek's, eating greasy take out with him to pass the time and it hadn't been awful. He felt bad for not visiting and he knew that it wouldn't be weird if he did but the thought of facing Derek now that he understood his feelings was terrifying to Stiles. It was easy to hide his feelings when he didn't know he had them but how could he look at Derek and act normal when all he had been able to think about for a week straight was the feeling of their lips pressed together.

It didn't occur to Stiles that Derek might have been aware of anything that had happened at the hospital. He had been so out of it there was no way he could have known what was going on and when he had held Stiles' hand it was only because he wanted to have something to tether himself to, to keep himself awake. At least that's what Stiles had convinced himself.

When Stiles nudged his bedroom door open with his foot because his hands were occupied with the pizza and Dr. Pepper he was carrying, the very last thing he expected to find was Derek sitting on the edge of the bed. His posture was stiff and awkward and he looked mildly uncomfortable but from what Stiles could see, he looked okay. He was alive. The unexpected waves of relief that crashed over him left Stiles feeling weak. Scott had told him that Derek had been doing okay but it was only when he was able to see for himself that he really believed it.

"Scott uses the front door, so this whole creepy, sneaking in through the window thing must be a Derek thing not a werewolf thing," Stiles joked, as he put his food down on his bedside table with shaking hands. He hated that Derek would be able to hear the way his heart was beating fast and hard in his chest. He hoped that he would think that Stiles had just gotten a fright at finding him in his room.

Stiles cracked open his can of soda and lifted the lid on his pizza box so that he wouldn't have to look at Derek when he said, "It's good to see that you're better," as casually as he could manage.

"Did you mean what you said?" Derek asked, his voice guarded and unwavering. "Did you mean what you did at Deaton's?"

Stiles froze and briefly considered just making a run for it before turning reluctantly to face Derek.

"Um.. that was kind of a crazy day, what exactly are you referring to?" Stiles asked. His voice sounded high and awkward even to his own ears.

Derek fixed him with an impatient stare. "Stiles."

"Derek?" Stiles replied. He knew he was being annoying but he couldn't help it, his palms were slick with sweat and his legs felt like they were going to give out from underneath him at any second. He wasn't ready to have this conversation; he'd only just figured out how he felt. He wasn't ready to have Derek reject him.

Derek shook his head in exasperation and swore under his breath.

"I remember everything, all right?" Derek began. He looked like Stiles felt: uneasy and like he was praying for the ground to swallow him up so that he wouldn't have to continue the conversation. "Or at least I think I remember," he continued. "I remember you saying you love me and I remember you kissing me and I need you to tell me if it happened or not because I've been driving myself _insane_ trying to figure it out for myself."

Stiles' first instinct was to lie, but you can't lie to werewolves. They can always tell, he knew that. Also, there was something vulnerable in the way Derek was standing in front of Stiles, his shoulders bunched up tight from tension and Stiles realised even if he could get away with lying he wouldn't want to. Not when Derek was looking at him like that; a raw mixture of confusion and desperation.

"It happened," he confessed quietly. "You didn't imagine it. I'm sorry I know it's stupid of me to even feel it and I shouldn't have kissed you, you were unconscious and I know you wouldn't have wanted it if you were awake and I don't want you to be mad because things have been almost good between us and I didn't meant to fuck that up but-."

"Shut up," Derek interrupted and crowded into Stiles' space. He pushed him up against the bedroom door but unlike all the other times, there was no aggression behind the act. Derek's face was serious but not angry when he asked, "Did you mean it?"

Stiles was barely able to answer "yeah, I did," he was so overwhelmed. Derek was so close that Stiles could feel the heat radiating from his body. It was too much and not enough all at once, he was caught between wanting to escape and wanting to pull Derek closer.

Derek hesitated for just a moment, listening for the tell tale uptick in Stiles heart rate that would expose a lie. When it didn't come he let go of the huge breath he had been holding and a desperate, choked noise escaped him before he surged forward to press his lips to Stiles'.

Stiles gasped against Derek's lips in surprise before wrapping his arms around the older man's broad back and kissing him back fervently. He relished the feeling of Derek's hands on either side of his face and the rough scratch of stubble against his skin. Stiles didn't need werewolf senses to know that Derek's heartbeat was hammering in his chest because he could feel it jump through his shirt, keeping time with his own like they were made to beat alongside each other.

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**Author's note: **_If anyone has tumblr, my url is warriorhale and I take fic prompts there!_


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